Stressed Out but Not Out

Ever since I took over the helm of our new magazine The Sun, stress have set in into me.

The primary concern is how could I apply the vision that I see for the mag, since as planned I would take over on the next issue not in the maiden. I thought of giving the whole line-up of articles a complete overhaul, since when it was conceived, the magazine would tackle the success people in every fields, so for the scratched title Success Today.

The first night was horrible. And even the brainstorming that came the next morning totally made my face haggard at the great responsibility of what I thought I should do to the magazine to make it politically and corporately themed mag.

My co-writers failed to see the great load bringing my shoulder literally down the floor. Worse, I could not tell them what my vision for the magazine was.

In the end, I compromised and let go of some of the obvious flaws I see in the line-up. Let it pass, they implied.

Nevertheless, the stress is not the thing that I avoid. It's is welcome. I had been just used in bumming around. So, I just have to adjust to a more active life, or in short having a job.

What I'm frustrated at and dread about is how will the magazine look, content included, when it hit the magazine racks.

I promise the next issue will be better. And, for sure, have the semblance of the vision that I have in mind.

A Thank You

For those people who shared their thoughts about blogging in the country with me (since I'm writing an article about it) thank you. You know who you are. :-)

Some Passing Thought

Deadlines for my contributions for other magazines in publication comes near, like a clock ticking inevitably to tell you that finish or not finished, you have to pass your work, if ever you have one. This is not counting the writing works that I still have to meet for my own magazine.

It seems day are fast passing by without any writing production from my part. Those pieces I finished, I've marked as 'draft', considering that I wrote them all in haste or just to fulfill the publication's quota of written work.

*****

If I would have my way, I would buy an ice-cold san Migs lights right now, stare at its beauty and cherish gulfing down the universe that it can offer. Can't help it. I know the ground beneath my feet cracked and its maw is slowing pulling me downward in spiral plummet down the abyss of eventual death of somebody cherished for so long and the immediate happeniness of just seeing somebody close to you with something between her ears. Life. Yes, life's intricacies. But every moves she makes is magic, no doubt about it.

The Journey Continues

A while ago, for sure brought by a bottle of a san mig lights, I was planning to yak about the concerns of the heart (specifically mine)... but it seems it does not matter now. The effect of the beer has waned and I can right now think of my true concern, the concern that define and the reason why in the first place I'm here in a small publishing trying to hone my language.

Though, I can say that I write everyday, I say that those written productions are really not the product of the soul by rather the product brought about by the necessity to perform to continue call myself as one who is employed.

So far, my language, inch by inch, is evolving (I think). Compliments come from my peers about my prose, though, of course, as they say, there are still some slight adjustments that I have to do, especially on my choice of words. On this matter, I recall what Dean Alfar commented on my rejected entry for his speculative fiction anthology that I had a bad choice in picking words or to that effect.

Well, what can you do. The journey still continues. Everyday, I hope, and see to it, that one way or another, I'm learning something new.

As I mentioned to one of my officemate here, I'm not really working for the money. What I can't say to him is I'm doing an apprentice job of learning the basics of the language.

Concerning about money, that will come sooner. Or probably not. But the beauty of it all is knowing why you are here in the world in the first place. Knowing the vocation that God or fate has bestowed on you.

And so the journey continues.......

Still a Tropical Paradise

A pensioner with wisdom of a homespun philosopher and with whom i share small talks about community going ons never forgets to pepper his speech with litany on distrust and loathing at the bureacracy of the government. The private corporate world, even, does not escape his scathing criticism over its unreliability in terms of reciprocating its employees loyalty. He would say: "They are just going to use and exploit you." I can't help but remain mum as he goes on with his spiel of street-wisdom commentary/monologue. Though, I sometimes think this is brought about by the previous night's lousy shag.

Yet, if this country is would turn into one big television show and the main actors are the whole population of the archipelago, the show can aptly given the title The Withering Banana Republic. Every actor's scripted lines will express nothing but how pitiful and miserable it is to live in this country. It basically no redemption on its continuous spiral plummet down the abyss of national destitiution.

Indeed, wherever one goes, at a small street caucus of grumpy old men, inside the transport vehicle one rides to go to work and back home, along the street where on the newstand scream the stark headlines on the country's abject political state, and even in your own home where the radio blares the voices of news commentators, the general outlook of the Filipinos leans toward a pessimistic attitude and hopelessness about the country.

I never cease to hear from the mouths of old people their feeling of nostalgia for the "good old days." They would harp like out of tuned violin that 'those days were better compared to now.'

They complain about the bad social and health services of the government; the rampant and increasing rate of crime; the unbridled corruption done by politicians; the blatant abuse of power by the police authorities; and with a stark, fearful belief that the government exists only to rip them off.

I have no recourse than keep my silence and bear listening to their complains since I have nothing to offer as a salvation to their deluded life-enforced perception about the country, and even about the world.

They are, in a way, the products of the messy mismanagemet done by the leaders of the past generations.

But the worse, for me, that you can hear from them is: "Buti pa sa America mas maganda buhay." Then begins another litany of how good American life is.

If only these people have seen the documentaries done by the filmaker Michael Moore about the true state of the streets in the States, probably they would reconsider their paens to the global empire that has a role in their hard, miserable lot.

There is one modern social wisdom appropriate on this case; every citizen of a country almost always complains about his own country. True, indeed.

For I rarely hear any good thing about a certain country unless the ones who are speaking are the diplomats and ambassadors or their advertising work force under the payroll of their department of tourisms.

Methinks, if you cannot bear the shortcomings of this country, and you really feel the urge and passionate about what you see as wrong, and you want a change, get your butt off the couch and do something about it. Go on a hunger strike along the middle of Ayala Ave. if need be to drive your viewpoint. (But that is already an exaggeration.)

Warts and all, this country is still, and is, a beatiful tropical country. Just consider the prevalent weather throughout they year.

Hey, every day is almost summer here. You can just go around in comfortable t-shirt and jeans. If that is ot a paradise of a country, I don't know what is.

Nothing to Write, Just the Urge to Read

Right now, there is no subject that stir my fancy to write about. I am not even in the mood to write. Yet, I feel the need to read anything that I can lay my hands on. It's like I've exhausted all the energy to write and discuss a subject, and the time calls for me to take a sit, relax, and just read a book. Learn again the texture of the printed words ... and probably after then, I can write something worthy on telling.

Need for a Good Rest

Slowly, the view of the darkening city, neons and car lights turned on already, outside the window and the view inside of the office is slowly merging into a twilight palimpsest of images. There is nothing that I want to do right now but to go home and finally have my deserved rest for working vigorously during the previous week. (Didn't I say that in my previous post?)

All I need right now is rest and a long time of sleep to get myself recharged.

Ahh, I want to post something longer but I think this is what happen when you have the resources to post on your blog for free.